


fever pitch

by Vault_of_Glass



Series: Kinktober 2018 [7]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 02:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16232207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_of_Glass/pseuds/Vault_of_Glass
Summary: Day 7: Aphrodisiacs





	fever pitch

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?”

MacCready glances over at the flowers in River’s hands, and his brow creases with hesitation. “Yeeeah, I guess. Are they supposed to glow like that?”

Across the counter, Daisy shrugs. “Beats me. Came in off some caravan out of Nuka-World. I only took ‘em ‘cause I thought you’d be interested.”

“Really?” River beams. “That’s so sweet of you! I know exactly where to put them.” She lifts the handful of fluorescent blue flowers to her nose and inhales softly. The bubbly sweetness of their scent reminds her of something familiar, and it takes her a few moments to place. “They smell like…  _Quantum_. Like the actual soda. That can’t be healthy, right?”

MacCready laughs, stuffing boxes of ammunition into his bag. “Probably not. But they are kinda pretty.” He plucks one from her hand and slips it behind her ear with a crooked smile. “Perfect.”

“You two are gonna give me cavities,” Daisy complains, her voice warm with humor as she shoos them away. “Get out of here before I charge you for my future dental work.”

The blush still lingers on MacCready’s cheeks when they reach Hancock’s office. River tugs curiously at the soft blue petals, and Quantum-colored powder clings like sugar to her fingertips. She rubs it between her fingers, humming in confusion. That sticky-sweet smell fills her lungs with each breath, and it’s eerie just how much it tastes like her first sip of Quantum a couple hundred years ago. 

“Looks like he’s still out,” MacCready mutters, closing the office doors behind them. “Might be a while.”

“I don’t mind waiting, if you don’t.” River crosses to the vase of wilted melon blossoms on Hancock’s desk and starts gingerly pulling each flower out by the stem. “He doesn’t have to keep these when they die…”

Warm arms slide in around her waist, and she leans back against MacCready as he watches her arrange the strange new flowers into place. “He said they remind him of you. Wouldn’t feel right to get rid of them.”

“I guess we’ll have to hope these ones last, then.” She tries to brush the fine blue dust from her fingers, but it grips stubbornly to her skin. “Damn it, what  _is_  this stuff?”

MacCready rests his hip against the desk and catches her hands gently by the wrists. “Yeah, I got some of that on me, too. Here.” He fishes a small handkerchief from his pocket and wipes carefully between her fingers. The powder slowly falls away, but a stain of sticky blue holds fast to her skin. “I couldn’t get it all off either.”

River stares down at her hands in his grip and finds herself abruptly  _restless_ , like every muscle in her body has been charged with sudden energy. Her heartbeat sprints behind her ribs, and it reminds her of the rush after a gunfight, when she’s still out of breath and riding high off the adrenaline. “I think… there’s something  _wrong_ with this stuff -”

MacCready’s hands tighten around her wrists. He crowds her back against the desk and drops his head to hers, breathing hard. Between them, she can feel the hard ridge of his cock as he grinds their hips together. “ _Riv_ -”

The need in his voice makes her shiver; she can almost feel the scrape of it against her skin. And she loves his voice, she really does, but she’s never been able to feel it before. Concern hovers somewhere at the back of her mind - that something’s wrong with them, that they’re clearly not thinking straight - and every other thought fades away as he grips her shirt in a shaking fist and kisses her, all teeth and tongue. His body heat sinks into her from every point of contact like a fever, like a full-body itch searing beneath her skin.

“Baby,” she gasps, thighs clenching at the sudden onslaught of sensation: calloused fingers dragging rough across her skin and the rasp of his stubble as he sucks a mark into her neck. Her clothes feel wet and heavy on her skin, and she tears her shirt above her head with a strangled whine. It’s like she’s never been touched in her life, like she is only empty spaces, begging to be filled. Her nerves sing in relief at the graze of his palms when he lifts her up onto the desk. “I need you.”

MacCready groans and shoves a hand beneath her bra, teasing rough circles around her nipples. Just that simple touch sends licks of heat down her belly. She drops her head back with a shudder, and he pulls clumsily at her jeans until they hang forgotten from one of her ankles. When he tugs her damp panties aside and rolls his thumb down her sex, she hisses at the contact, hot and raw. She can feel how wet she is,  _impossibly_ wet, slick enough that he slips two fingers into her with ease. Her body arches, squeezing desperately around him.

“ _God_ ,” he grits out through his teeth. He fucks her with his fingers, crooking roughened fingertips over a patch of nerves that makes her tense and sob and writhe against him. His hand withdraws, and she whines at the loss before he yanks her to the edge of the desk and drops his mouth to the silky heat between her thighs. He eats her with a hunger verging on starvation, sucking the slick from her skin, lapping hard with the flat of his tongue. The pleasure is almost abrasive, too sharp, too precise, a blade’s edge of bliss riving her apart piece by piece.

River bucks against his grip and knocks a stack of papers from the desk in her frenzy. Her hands clutch tightly at his hair as she grinds against his mouth. She can feel him in too-perfect clarity, down to every little groan he rumbles into her skin. His fingers hunt slick up her thighs and slip into her again, filling her in a swift, frenzied rhythm.

“RJ -  _fuck_ , baby, I  _need_ …!” She bites her lip and starts to shake against his grip, scraping her nails over the surface of the desk in desperate search of purchase. When he adds a third finger, she whines and shudders at the stretch, panting rapidly between her teeth. Every curl and twist of his fingers tightens at the ball of pressure throbbing between her thighs, every devilish drag of his tongue urging her closer. MacCready knows her down to every atom, even in the frenzy of whatever’s pumping through their systems, and after a matter of moments, she unravels with a shattered scream. Greedy cords of pleasure pulse along her veins, fanning out across her nerves in rapidfire heartbeats. The rush goes on and on as if unending, and MacCready lets out a muffled growl at the feel of her muscles fluttering around his fingers.

Even once the peak of climax has receded, little seismic shocks still grip down her spine. Her cunt throbs achingly with every heartbeat, seeking, craving sweet fulfillment. They reach for his belt at the same time, but he bats her shaking fingers aside and works his pants open with a twist of his hand. She wraps her hand around his cock, feeling it jerk with need against her palm, pumping him twice and leading him urgently between her thighs.

MacCready pushes into her with little ceremony, too far gone to be gentle and she loves him for it. Her nails score lines across his shoulders as he fucks her in hard, greedy thrusts. He finds her throat beneath his mouth and bites down, panting against her skin. She feels his fingers digging marks into her thighs, keeping her pinned open for each determined drive of his hips.

The desk is hard beneath her shoulder blades, and her skin still burns with that feverish heat, but all she knows and all she’ll ever know is the devastating satisfaction of being filled. MacCready fits so perfectly inside of her, like something she’s been missing falling finally back into place. She feels her voice shred in her throat around another scream as she clings to him with pale knuckles.

Bracing his hand against the desk, MacCready hooks her legs over his shoulders and fucks her with abandon. Sweat gathers along his forehead, teeth clenched behind his lips; every part of him looks strained and wild, on the cusp of frenzy. She pleads for him in ragged sobs, drawing him down into her arms so she can sink her teeth into his shoulder. His body jerks at the pain, cock throbbing somehow harder inside of her.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whines, his voice frayed and broken. He pins her down hard against the desk, and his fingers are sure to leave bruises behind, but even the ache from his grip feels so fucking divine. The desk rocks with each savage thrust that brings them together, and a lantern crashes to the floor, sending the glisten of oil seeping over dusty floorboards.

MacCready claims her mouth in a ravenous kiss, setting his teeth to her lips and licking between them. His breath is shallow in his lungs as he drops his hands to her hips and locks them in place, thrusting roughly against her. Her thoughts devolve into a jumbled mess of plea and prayer, scattered every time he sinks back into her.

“Please,” she gasps, feeling the familiar ache of an approaching climax, so intense her legs begin to shake around his waist. “RJ, baby, please -” She’ll say just about anything to keep him fucking her at that same brutal pace.

MacCready shudders at the sound of his name, his knuckles white with tension. He ducks his head against hers and groans in desperation, his pupils blown out wide and inky black. “Gonna come, baby,  _need_ to come,  _need to fill you_  -”

She’s never heard him sound so wrecked with need. Her eyes roll back as he slips a trembling hand between them to find her swollen clit. The first graze of his fingers makes her jolt, and then he works his thumb in short, deft shapes that force hot pleasure through her overstimulated nerves. She sobs his name and thrashes beneath him, breaking the skin of his chest with her nails when she comes again.  

MacCready takes the pain, gritting his teeth against the feeling of her squeezing tight around him. His hips shudder and flex, falling out of rhythm. She can tell he’s close from all the tension in his body, and through the mindless throes of ecstasy, River begs him to come in a quivering moan.

His elbow comes down hard against the desk, teeth sinking a groan at the base of her neck as he spills inside of her. She holds him close, murmuring soothingly against his sweat-damp skin. His cock throbs out the last few pulses of his climax, slick and sticky between her thighs when he finally pulls out and collapses against her, panting for breath.

“Holy… shit…” she gasps, her throat burning with thirst. Tingles of arousal still thrum in her gut like a hunger, only temporarily sated, and from the possessive way MacCready keeps his hands on her, he must feel the same. “Those flowers are a fucking biohazard.”

He huffs a breathless whimper. “God, I feel like I could fuck you for the next week and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Her sex clenches eagerly at just the thought. “Please -”

“I know, angel,” he pants, nipping teeth at her swollen bottom lip. His cock twitches against her thigh with renewed interest. “I want that, too.”

She’s still weak from her last climax when she pulls him back over her, shoving the rest of Hancock’s work aside without a second thought. MacCready trails his mouth down the curves of her breasts and hisses when her hand wraps lovingly around his cock.

“A week,” she gasps, arching up into his touch. “You promised.” And he’s fucking  _right_ , it’s not enough; she could spend the next forever split around his cock and it will never be enough.

MacCready chuckles, low and rough, and they groan together when he sinks into her again. “Promise.”


End file.
